by Adam E. Smith

The basement at the Leicester Square Theatre has been transformed into a cheap garden centre. Black and white chessboard lino, limp hanging plants and a trickling water feature decorate the tiny space. But it is not a performance of Little Shop of Horrors we are awaiting; it is Shakespeare’s most famous tragedy, Romeo & Juliet. The poor set is probably the best that can be made in such a small room. As the action commences, the gurgling fountain is distracting and the fake foliage is enough to make us feel like we’ve fallen into one of Leicester Square’s cheap Italian restaurants by mistake.

Once we have overcome the paper-thin set and realised that we are in Verona in the 1930s, a few things click into place. The Fascist flag appears and a yellow star is tied round a Jew’s arm. Disbelief suspended, the play becomes interesting. After the opening scuffle between two Capulets (the wealthy followers of Mussolini) and a Montague (a cheeky Jew), it is clear that the director has chosen a twentieth-century conflict as the backdrop to the finest love story ever written. It seems to fit well, and the actors have a lot fun painting it with their canny portrayals of classic characters from Mercutio to Nurse and, of course, Romeo.

These performances are in sharp contrast to the two-dimensional set. They are profound and intricately constructed. Daniel Finn’s Romeo is everything the knave should be: mischievous, bold and cocky – until he spots Juliet. It is a delight to watch him cavort with his friends and then sulk at the masque ball. Finn has all the charm and wit that one expects of Romeo. He manages to lift from the page the spontaneity that lesser productions forget. Much credit must go here to director Linnie Reedman who makes great use of Finn and his co-stars. Memorable among them, Imogen Viden-North provides the sexiest and also funniest Nurse I have ever seen. She is both comical and seductive at the same time.

It is incredibly important to get Romeo & Juliet’s spontaneity right. But it is the easiest half of the play. The suffering and tragedy of the second half is what any production is ultimately judged on. And Reedman’s attempt is immensely successful – mostly because of her players. Even though I have heard these crushing lines numerous times, I still found myself hanging on Romeo and Juliet’s every word. The final, awful scene is outstanding. It is one of the best moments of Shakespeare I’ve seen: you will not get better than this on the fringe circuit. As Juliet, Olivia Vinell strikes perfectly her character’s balance of naïveté and wisdom. Her final horror at discovering the body of her dead lover is incredibly moving. Equally, the scene in which she stands up to her father over her betrothal to Paris is well done indeed.

The one aspect where the play comes unstuck is not the chessboard linoleum (although that does peak in numerous spots on the stage). It is the setting. Fascist Italy provides a decent aesthetic for Shakespeare’s tragedy – at first it is a neat fit. But, unfortunately, the choice also drags politics along for the ride. In Romeo & Juliet, this is not appropriate. The families are persisting with a feud that, admittedly, feels political. But Shakespeare is careful to keep the specifics out of his text. He does not want his universal tragedy diluted with fleeting historical movements. And rightly so.

Situating the play under a Fascist regime and, moreover, casting one family as the white tyrants and the other family as oppressed Jews does not work. Let us compareRomeo & Juliet with Richard III. This tale of one man’s terrible climb to the top of a regime is deeply political; Fascist Europe as a setting therefore works wonderfully here. That’s why Richard Loncraine chose it for his brilliant National Theatre production and subsequent film adaptation. Romeo & Juliet, on the other hand, is not political. The background family spat could be about anything. This leads some directors to assume that they can choose a reason for the feud and run with it. That misses the point: the war has no reason because it’s irrelevant. Romeo and Juliet can see through it; why can’t we?

Nevertheless, Reedman’s production – complete with Joe Evans’ enlivening musical input – is an immense achievement.

Fringe benefits

When making the best with what you’ve got isn’t good enough. The space is small, the set weak. But they are filled with diamonds.

Romeo & Juliet

By William Shakespeare

At the Leicester Square Theatre until July 11th